Ernest's Story
by anjalip3
Summary: This is a story of Victor Frankenstein's younger brother, Ernest. As he is hardly mentioned in the book and his story is never completed, I thought it would be nice to complete his life story following Mary Shelley's novel.


Ernest's Story

It was mid-afternoon, but nonetheless it was as if one was in a ghost town. Through the turbulent winds and heavy snowfall emerged a figure from the back of an alleyway, dashing into the nearest pub.

Ernest Frankenstein entered into the warm, smoky restaurant in Cold Kirby, England, a town name well fitting to its current weather conditions. Scanning the crowded restaurant, he found a table in the corner adjacent to group of boisterous sailors. This town had been Ernest's fifth stop in under a week. Recently ending his term as a member of the Swiss Army, the 23 year old, with no family to return home to, has been wandering through Europe for the last six months. Immersed in his own thoughts of loneliness he merely missed the mention of his missing brother, Victor, by the group of sailors. As soon as Ernest had completed his time serving in the army, he immediately returned home to Geneva to reunite with his older brother, the sole kin Ernest had. Shortly after arriving in Geneva Ernest discovered that his brother had been missing for several months with no word from him. Ernest assumed that Victor had once again abandoned his family in the pursuit of science.

The sailor seated at the neighboring table with a glass of bitter in his right hand continued his story, "While we were stuck in that wretched place, a man, half-dead at the time, floated over toward the ship on a piece of ice. We learned he went by the name of Victor Frankenstein. He was somewhat hysterical talking about how he was determined to destroy a man with a face of a daemon. I came to the conclusion he wasn't right in the head because when we had run out of food and were practically eating away at the ship to survive, he insisted that we keep on with our mission and to die trying even if we weren't successful. In the end his opinion didn't really matter because the poor bloke died of weakness and exhaustion."

Ernest now knew the truth of his last family member's fate. He couldn't now look forward to the hope of ever seeing his brother again. He felt indescribable feelings of abandonment and loneliness at the core of his soul.

The sailor's story, however, wasn't quite over yet. "I felt sorry for Captain Walton. His journey resulted in a failure and he lost a dear companion in the passing of Victor."

Ernest's attention quickly turned to the mention of Captain Walton. With deep feelings of curiosity driving him, Ernest stood up from his seat and made his way over to the garrulous sailor. With a twinkle of hope in his eyes, Ernest addressed the sailor.

"I happened to overhear the story you have just finished telling. I am just inquiring if you could help me contact the Captain Walton you spoke of."

The sailor gave Ernest the address in which he believed Captain Walton would be residing. After this encounter, Ernest immediately made plans to remain in Cold Kirby as a means of paying tribute to the feeling that he may not be as alone as he believed. With his inheritance money from his wealthy father, Ernest settled down in a modest home with overgrown weeds and peeling creamy white paint. He bought this project to occupy some of his time.

In mid march, just as the snow was beginning to thaw, Ernest decided it was time to contact Captain Walton. He took out a blank piece of parchment and placed a glass bottle of black ink on the mahogany table and a plume in his right hand. As his hand touched the paper he shook so uncontrollably that his "C" turned into a sort of misshaped ink spot. With a clean sheet, Ernest tried again, with more precision, in writing the much anticipated letter. The letter read:

Captain Walton,

Before you dispose of this letter because of the unfamiliar address, allow

me to introduce myself. My name is Ernest Frankenstein. I hope the name

sounds familiar to you as I am the younger brother of your late friend,

Victor. I understand you two became very close and I was interested to

know if you would consider meeting me to help me understand why

Victor travelled to the Arctic. I would sincerely appreciate your assistance

on this matter.

Ernest Frankenstein

Cold Kirby, March 6th, 17—

Ernest signed the letter picked it up and read it several times. He tossed around the words in his head, reading the document until he could recite it without looking. He contemplated whether it was too short or maybe too forward. He decided not to revise it as these words most probably reflected his most sincere intentions. He folded the parchment carefully using two distinct creases and placed it into the addressed envelope. Sending the letter left him with anxious feelings that reminded him of his time in the army. On every occasion while he was in combat and would need to turn a corner, he never knew whether an innocent bystander would be on the other side or someone who would cease his existence.

The snow thawed and icicles melted. Glimpses of spring began to appear with new pops of color lining the grounds surrounded by fresh patches of grass. Then came the heavy rains which brought humidity and mugginess. The bright and pounding sun seemed to break the clouds leaving only the sunshine and a few wandering clouds. Through all this time there was still no word from Walton.

It was a warm August day when Ernest had just returned home from his daily walk when he saw a small manila colored envelope waiting on his front step. He opened it in a hurried manner and was ecstatic to discover his premonition was correct. The letter bore the following words:

Dear Ernest,

I was so happy to read your letter. Seeing the familiar Frankenstein name

almost brought me to tears as it reminded me of your incredible brother. I apologize for the respite in which I did not respond to your letter, but your brother entrusted me with very important information, in which he made

me swear not to tell a soul. After months of consideration and fighting

with myself I have come to terms that you have a right to the truth. I

will be visiting Cold Kirby on September 3rd. If you choose to see me,

I will be waiting in front of St. Michael's Church around mid-day. I hope

to see you soon.

Robert Walton

London, August 13th, 17—

On the day, Ernest dressed in his best suit, although weathered from time, and made his way toward St. Michael's Church on a not so leveled dirt path. When he arrived, there was a man standing at the entrance looking upon the landscape. One could tell he was an explorer through the wonder in his eyes as he looked at the vastness in front of him. Ernest walked up to the gentleman and faced him as the man continued to look straight ahead. The gentlemen turned toward Ernest with a pleasing smile.

Ernest stretched out his hand and with a thick French accent said, "Captain Walton, it is a great pleasure to meet you."

Robert Walton took the welcoming hand and stared at Ernest's face. Maybe it was his remarkable resemblance to Victor or their highly anticipated meeting that made Walton look at this man as if he'd known him his entire life.

With the wrinkles and creases forming in his face as he smiled, Robert Walton replied, "Ernest, I am so thrilled we have finally gotten a chance to meet."

As the man stared upon him with a warm smile, Ernest hoped that this would be the start of the end of his lonely days.


End file.
